Don't ask me why I love you: you are
The chosen one, the Fattened Calf
- a figure of speech, you understand.
To me you richly deserve
The most bejewelled fingers of the land
So come, let us go hand in hand
Walk a sandy Saint Anne's mile into the sunset
Knee deep into the tide, the wind
blowing, moist of sea water
and salt on our faces
No comments:
Post a Comment